


𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫

by Risenaffairs



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Crimes & Criminals, London, Moriarty - Freeform, Murder, Other, Sex, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, The Great Game, The Reichenbach Fall, Violence, criminal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Risenaffairs/pseuds/Risenaffairs
Kudos: 2





	1. 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

A sound, that was all it had taken. Whenever her heavy eyelids closed it would be present, sometimes hearable behind her in the distance, other times as loudly as if it was right in front of her. One sound that would change the course of her life as fast as it itself had appeared and vanished. One sound that she would have to remember for as long she would still be breathing. One godawful sound that in matter of seconds had left her empty and lost.

She could still feel the leather gloved hand covering her mouth, the scent of Hugo Boss Bottled penetrating her nose from the slightly exposed dark wrist. They had expected her to scream, for the mere reason that they believed it was something someone like her would do. She never screamed, what good would screaming have done anyway? A scream wouldn’t have prevented the scene she had been staring at. It wouldn’t have prevented the sound that was now haunting her. A scream would’ve been too late.

Fingers began to ran through her now shorter blonde locks as her tired eyes opened once more, immediately blinded by the setting sun in the distance that colored the fluffed white blanket of clouds into a mixture of yellow and orange. The longer the hand plucked, the more realization came that it was uneven. It wasn’t all that surprising, after all it had been cut in a hurry by the sharp edge of a knife in the restrooms of Heathrow airport. Not that it mattered, the feeling of safety she had hoped to gain by cutting it still lay shattered on the floor of the building she had been watching from not long before.

“𝘽 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣, 𝙃𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙖. 𝘽 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣.”

The deep voice of the owner of the gloved hand had whispered into her ear before turning her around and shoving her towards the exit. B plan, a way to escape. But how does one escape? How does one recall the B plan when the mind is going into the five stages of grief? Denying what it had just witnessed, coping with the feelings that were being unleashed behind the shocked blue hues. Who cares about the “B plan” when the life you’ve known is falling apart right in front of you? They talk about the five stages of grief but they don’t tell you what to do when a few of those stages all come together at once.

The soft tunes coming from the plugged in earbuds from the young gentleman sitting next to her snapped her out of her painful memories. Blankly, eyes stared at the darkening clouds outside, the wing cutting through them as a scissor would through paper. A tear began to linger on her cheek, lightened by the fading rays of sunshine. The first crack in the mask and revealing the tumult underneath. The mask that was all that remained of who she once were.

It wasn’t long before the soft tunes and noises from the moving plane were replaced with the sound of a gunshot once again. And again, and again, eyelids closing slowly as all energy seemed to have been left behind on the ground below. Exhaustion running its course along with unexplainable shivers. Until…

“𝘓𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘞𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘖𝘴𝘭𝘰."


	2. 𝐉𝐞 𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧

A shot of adrenaline made the sudden darkness resolve, an instant regret of not wearing sunglasses appearing as the daylight reached her exhausted eyes. “… a lot more cloud around as we do tonight…” the soft yet excited female voice on the radio proclaimed over the busy city noises that came from the outside. Blue eyes shifted towards the small cab window which her throbbing head was leaning against, swaying along as the cab plowed its way through the traffic that was bound for work.

The motion was enough to make her blankly staring eyes close once again but her peaceful state was soon to be disturbed as the cabbie cursed loudly and hit the breaks. A shocked group of school children quickly passed the front of the black vehicle, their supervisor rewarding the cabbie with a disapproving glare. “… you keep walking Missy…” the muttered Manchester accent overruled the upbeat song that had followed up the weather forecast and the cab was soon continuing its way. Sighing she lifted her trembling hands to rub her tired eyes, her body clearly showing the signs that it was still coping with the content it had indulged the night before. It made no exception of having a dry mouth either, something she finally noticed as she slouched back into her seating and her eyes came to a close.

“Here we are, Hampstead Heath,” the voice of the cabbie woke her once again, his head turned with a piercing grin. She was quick enough to pay him, wishing a good day with a hoarse voice and letting her black heels hit the grey pavement that lay in front of the Heath. Fresh morning air filled her nose as she heard the cab drive off behind her and making its way back towards the centre of the city. A woman with a Grey Hound passed her, nodding politely before continuing her way down the paved path that ran through the green. A deep sigh and a small shake of the left sleeve of her beige coat followed and she was quick to learn the time, she was running late.

The black heels came to life as she left the Heath for what it was and turned left, walking along the West Heath road while yawning loudly. Minutes passed while the rushed feeling that had made an appearance after checking the time grew larger, heels beginning to tick faster when the pace was picked up. Finally she reached the entrance of a long driveway that reminded her of the road towards Buckingham Palace, the resemblance being seen as a compliment when she had spoken about it out loud.

Her legs had grown tired and were aching in protest when she had reached the high black metal gate that lay at the seemingly never ending driveway. The gate kept the three storey high mansion that stood basking in sunlight from the outside world yet was unable to drown out the noise that came from a distance. While it opened after the camera had approved of the newly arrived visitor, she began to recognize the melody of the noise. Surprised she stepped onto the large gravel field where parked vehicles stood. Her feet taking her towards the left of the house where the melody seemed to come from. Her heart skipped a beat when she turned the corner, curiosity, shock and immediate awareness drove away the tiredness from before.

Blue eyes landed on the man that was balancing on the edge of the balcony that was attached to the second floor, hands bound behind his back while fear was spread across his pale face. Behind him stood two familiar faces, listening to the stumbling pleas the first man was able to produce. Black slicked back hair shone in the sun while the messy blonde locks stood a little further behind in the opening of the balcony doors. There came no remark to her presence but instead dark blue clothed arms spread widely as Édith Piaf began her lyrics. A grin she knew all too well covered the face of the small Irish man, his face directed towards the sun while his dance movements brought him closer to his victim.

“𝘉𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦́ 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴. 𝘑𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢̀ 𝘻𝘦́𝘳𝘰.”

The foot of James Moriarty had found a place on the man’s back while him and Édith sang loudly. With the slightest bit of effort… he pushed the man over the edge.

While the song and James’s loud voice continued the man screamed in his fall, the cold stone below meaning his ending. She felt her stomach turn when hearing the thump, the cracking and the sudden stop of screaming. Her eyes that had lingered on the balcony refused to look down in fear of actually throwing up the content that had been pestering her ever since she had been woken that morning. “Apologies for ruining your steamy rendez-vous, my dear Helena,” the Irish tone snapped her out of it. The mention alone was enough to remind her of the night before where her companion was snorting a line of coke off her breast.

"But I assumed you would appreciate a good show in the morning.” His hand gestured towards the lifeless body that lay bleeding below, the blood making a strange sight on the light stone. She knew she had to look this time or she would pay for it later. “Unpleasantries have occurred and he was brave enough to wake me up for it. Now, get inside. We have business to attend to.”


	3. 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭

A lingering heat of sexual activity clouded the space between the four walls of the bedroom of the flat in Knightsbridge. With windows and doors closed shut, it had nowhere to escape and was forced to mingle with the smoke of the cigarette, wasting away in the grey stone ashtray on the nightstand. When the hands that held her hips gripped tighter, as to alarm her that they were reaching the end, her eyes re-opened from the daze she had found herself in. Discarded pieces of clothing lay across the hard wooden floor, crumbled and forgotten. The long deep grunt while he spilled himself into her was followed by a few minutes of silence before his weight pushed her face down onto the soft mattress and tangled sheets. 

Indulged into a euphoric world of their own and their bodies feeding each other with heat, only the heavy panting remained. It was broken by a content hum, a soft brush through her hair and two soft kisses on the back of her neck. “You’ll always remain my favourite high,” his hoarse voice stated before he rolled off her and she was able to breathe properly again. Her smile was hidden by the sheets but vanished when she rolled lazily onto her back. Cigarette smoke soon penetrated her nose when he had lit a new one and she felt his hungry stare running over her bare body. “Must you leave?” he asked after exhaling a large amount of twirling white smoke. “I’m rather enjoying my view.” Teasingly she lifted her right leg and turned it a little, her stare landing from the ceiling on him while her nails raked through the blonde mess upon her head. 

“You know I must,” she said simply but with that little bit of resentment. She would rather ditch her nightly adventure and snuggle up into his strong manly arms while getting rid of the hang-over that had been plaguing her since that morning. But luck wasn't on her side. Silently she cursed Jim’s talent for knowing exactly how to destroy a pleasant evening. “Come here…” he said with tenderness when he had decided his interest lay with her and not his cigarette. His beckoning hands soon closed around her while she sat on his lap, arms draping around his neck. “Best enjoy before this mysterious job snatches you away again,” she spotted the slightly agitated tone. He always needed to have an answer to everything.

She could hardly blame his curiosity. The moment they had decided each other worthy of more than one night with tangled sheets, she had pleaded him not to ask about her doings when she wasn’t drinking gin in her bed. He was intelligent enough to understand that whatever it was that she did when her phone began to buzz three short times could hardly ever be legal. How could she ever tell him that she saw a man being shoved to death this morning only because he provided to wrong sort of player? 

That she dealt with terrorist? Or simply the fact that she was part of the largest criminal organization that controlled the United Kingdom? Thinking about it brought her the same despair she had felt that morning when she had stood in Jim’s office while he continued his tantrum like a child that didn’t get his way. The only difference was that Jim’s tantrums could be deadly when you opened your mouth at the wrong time. He had cursed and cursed at the man whom’s remains were being scraped from the stone beneath the balcony. 

"Jeff Hope will do an excellent job, Jim,” he mimicked in anger before wiping the clutter on his dark wooden desk to the floor. “Unless he’s under pressure and nearly dying of course. Then he’ll casually mention your name to the one person he fucking shouldn’t!” Another flare of anger arose after that conversation with himself and was soon followed by the crashing sound of glass when he threw his empty coffee cup against the wall. Breathing heavily he had stared at the remains of that brown liquid that was now dribbling down from the wet spot. 

She had locked eyes with Sebastian, whom had been cleaning his nails with his pocket knife. They had a silent conversation as to question if this would’ve been the end of it. Minutes of silence passed before Jim smoothened his slicked back hair and turned around to face them. “Well?” he had asked agitated if they had played a part in this misfortune as well. “I’m waiting.” Luckily for her Sebastian spoke up first, letting his pocket knife disappear back into his trouser pocket. “If it is time you want…” he began carefully. “I can always ask around in the Fox if anyone -“ 

"Of course it is fucking time I want!” Jim cut him off aggressively before sitting down on the edge of his desk and began straightening his suit as if it would help him think clearer. “Weren’t you boasting about your Korean friend that you met during one of your endless card games?” she reminded Sebastian when she had finally found her voice again. “Lee?” Moran let out in despair, immediately shaking his head. “I have sworn if I would ever encounter that child again I would -“ 

“𝘿𝙤 𝙞𝙩.” 

Jim’s voice had said in a demanding tone that would not accept any objection. It still floated through her clouded mind while she was slipping off her lover’s lap to get decent. It was best not to wait around when it came to one of Jim’s orders so she and Sebastian had agreed to meet Mr Lee at the Fox that night. “You better not get into any kind of trouble,” he warned her while she went to clean herself in the attached bathroom and his interest for a new cigarette peaked. It wouldn’t be long before the interest for the syringe he kept in the drawer of his nightstand would peak as well. 

"Is that your way of saying you would get worried?” she asked slightly amused before picking up her dress. She would need help with the zipper on the back. Normally she wouldn’t let anyone look at, let alone touch, her back in fear of the scars that were displayed upon it but he had gained her trust on that matter. The first time he had seen them and had noticed her discomfort, he had traced one or two before planting a kiss upon it. “Perfectly imperfect,” he had muttered with a smile, taking away any doubt that was troubling her mind. 

“Maybe it is… only way to find out is if you return,” he smirked while zipping up the back of her dress. 

—————————————————————  


Freshly washed and clothed in a dark blue dress, yet the clouds that fogged her mind still present, she stepped through the red velvet curtains that kept the cold, and smells, of the city out at the top of the stairs. She was greeted by cigarette smoke and heavy smells of liquor and sweat. The room below was fairly crowded with people you would usually avoid, either dancing, drinking, playing cards or threatening each other under the the tables. The Fox, a club in Soho owned by Jim but he wasn’t too fond of actually running it, was the only safe haven for criminals left in London.

The others had been exposed one way or another to the little rats that walked the halls of the SIS building and had been emptied, its owners living out their days in prison. The fact that no one had given this place up yet showed just how much Jim was in control of everything that had to do with what the rats called the ‘underworld’. It was a name that brought smiles with many of the people here as they all operated on the surface and right under everyone’s noses. The days that criminals operated from the shadows and darkness like vampires had been driven away the moment Jim had decided London would be his playground. She supposed that was where all the unlimited loyalty came from, except from frauds like Jeff Hope.

Emerging through a cloud of smoke a tattooed biker exhaled gaping when she had reached the bottom of the second stairs, she scanned the place to find the man she had met this afternoon. Hidden out of sight she eventually found him in one of the booths at the right, silently sipping his whiskey while his stare had been caught by something he considered interesting. The tunes of ‘Rag Doll’ had brought the boldness out of a brunette woman and she was now sensually swaying her hips on top of the bar, not only catching Sebastian’s interest in the process.

Some men, and even ladies, cheered while the bartender tried to serve his customers by slipping the full glasses through her legs and not getting stepped on. He managed to back away in time when the brunette leaned forward, nearly pressing her backside in his sweating face without a care, and toyed around with the tie of a 9 to 5 kind of man that sat directly in front of her. When she had lured him into her web of seduction, the man seemingly hypnotized by her touch, she discarded him as a used tissue and swayed to the other side of the bar while singing along out loud.

“ 𝘖𝘪 !”

She snapped Sebastian out of his aroused trance and sat down beside him after taking off her coat. “We are here for a purpose remember? Or do you want to be the one to inform Jim we missed the guy we came for cause you were thinking with your cock instead of your brain?” Annoyed Sebastian took another sip of whiskey, placing his glass back onto the table that bit rougher than intended.

"Fine, I’ll find her later then,” he muttered under his breath but never taking his eyes off her. Her running thin patience with him was disturbed by a waitress in a short black dress that offered her a glass of gin. She was concerned that she only had to walk in here and they already knew what she was having. Concerns that were put to rest when Sebastian spoke up again. “I ordered ahead. No need to feel special - Christ, there he is…”

Just as the music switched to ‘Outta My Mind’ a younger looking man with ash colored hair had taken the last step down, a small smile forming on his lips as if he was reminded of a good joke. His gaze stopped at the two of them on the right and he seemed to be contemplating if they actually were not a waste of his time. She felt how Sebastian sat up straight and how his hand began to linger near his trouser pocket, she followed his example even though the man seemed rather innocent to her.

"MORON!” he let out in a tone that indicated he would never grow bored of that joke, hands up the air which made a few heads turn. “Still sour I won the last game of cards are you?” He stopped in front of their table with a big grin but his hands back into his pockets. “And hello other insignificant person.”


End file.
